


Golden Light

by Tish



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Blow Jobs, Gen, Hand Jobs, M/M, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-26 17:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12562360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: Silent movie star Napoleon Solo falls hard for a newly arrived actor, Illya Kuryakin.





	Golden Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BigStripeyLie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigStripeyLie/gifts).



“You are a pest, Napoleon. Don't you have anyone else to annoy?” Heather laughed as she sliced a section of film and re-spooled it.

“Yes, but nobody as beautiful as you,” said Napoleon as he held a section of film up to the light, squinting at the tiny frames.

“I'll be finished soon enough,” Heather said, collecting a finished reel and setting it up. “Here, watch this one, it's colour-tinted!”

As a golden light filled the tiny screen, Napoleon became entranced as a fair-haired young man ran along a road, the camera dollying alongside, then craning up as he leapt into a tree. He climbed easily, nimble as a cat, the camera lingering on his face as he watched something in the distance. All too soon, the scene ended and Napoleon stared at the blank space, the young man's image burnt into his mind's eye. 

Napoleon Solo, leading man at Waverly Pictures and debonair lover on and off-screen felt the boner rise in his pants and looked over at Heather, his face full of apology.

Still editing the film, she didn't bother to turn around. “His name's Illya something. Russian. Or maybe Polish. Think you can get your mind off him long enough to pay me attention through lunch?”

Napoleon laughed sheepishly, “How did you know? And yes, I will be all yours, I promise.”

Heather sorted out her work station and stood up, “I know what you like, Napoleon. You're an open book, with lots of dirty pictures.”

“Madame, I must protest my innocence,” Napoleon said as he helped her into her jacket. “Those pictures have deep artistic merit.”

“Right. Six inches deep,” Heather brushed a hand down the front of Napoleon's pants before taking his hand.

“You always had the measure of me, Heather,” Napoleon replied with a charming smile as they walked off to lunch.

*****

Up on the dark catwalk with the stage lights, Napoleon could watch the crew dress the scene and set up their equipment. He could watch a crew all day, but never had the luxury to simply observe when he was filming. This free afternoon was all the more precious once he noticed the new arrival.

Slender and shorter than Napoleon had imagined, Illya stood listening intently to the director, Miss Diketon, a woman Napoleon hadn't been introduced to yet. She was blonde, slim, and looked as though she had a keen eye as she guided Illya to the wall and he knelt down to let a crewman chain him up. Napoleon bit his lip as he noticed Miss Diketon slowly rubbing her foot along Illya's leg. Quickly looking around, Napoleon noticed the script girl gnawing her pencil and a young man with a broom staring intently at Illya, too.

Napoleon looked back at Illya, right into Illya's clear blue-eyed gaze. Stunned, Napoleon blinked a few times, before stepping back a little, letting the darkness envelop him, wondering why he felt so guilty.

Illya smiled a little, before turning back to Miss Diketon, nodding as the wardrobe lady, Mrs Partridge came up and ripped his white shirt a few times.

Napoleon thought he'd knock a light off the catwalk with his erection and he whispered softly to himself. He needed to meet Illya face to face, hopefully without tripping over his own cock.

The rest if the day's shoot went briskly and efficiently as Miss Diketon directed her crew like a well-oiled machine. Napoleon made way for some lighting changes, but returned to his vantage point, entranced by the filming. 

Anticipating Diketon's final order of the night, Napoleon slowly made his way to the floor and waited for a suitable moment to introduce himself, but was caught by surprise as the script girl patted him on the arm.

“Mr. Solo, go on over. Oh, Miss Diketon?” she propelled him to Diketon's side and introduced them, giving him a wink as she left them for her date with Heather.

As Solo shook her hand, she sighed. “Well, I finally get to meet you. Mr. Waverly wants you and Illya to be in a picture together, how about that?”

“Already?” Napoleon asked as Illya escaped Mrs Partridge's fussing and joined them.

“Is this the Solo?” Illya asked Diketon as he offered his hand.

“The sole Solo that I know,” Napoleon grinned, immediately regretting tossing out that pick up line.

“Perhaps you will soon be a Duo with me, not a Solo,” Illya said deadpan. Napoleon wasn't sure if that was a joke, but he laughed anyway.

“I hope so, very much,” Napoleon said as he felt himself wanting to dive into Illya's blue eyes, cursing himself at the same time.

Somehow, he found himself right by Illya's side as Ilya held open his dressing room door for him, trying to look away casually as Illya stripped off the shirt and puffy pants he'd been wearing. Standing bare chested and in his underpants, Illya carefully put the costume back on the hangars ready for wardrobe.

“I saw you watching, I hope you liked what you saw?” Illya had his street clothes in his hands, one thumb rubbing the fabric as he watched Napoleon.

“Yes, it looks like a beautifully done film, from what little I've seen,” Napoleon replied slowly.

“Yes, I want you to see more. I know the sort of things you like. People talk, and I listen,” Illya paused, still not getting dressed.

Napoleon felt his breath catch in his throat. “You might catch a chill standing there like that, Illya.”

“I'm used to cold weather, but this is sunny California. Sharing body heat does stop the chill, though,” Illya weighed the argument in his mind as he moved closer.

“It's unseasonably cool this time of year,” Napoleon said as a shiver ran down his spine, glancing in the mirror to check the door was closed.

The next thing he knew was a tangle of limbs and blond hair as Illya dropped his clothes and dived on Napoleon, sending them both onto the divan. Napoleon embraced Illya as he sat in Napoleon's lap, kissing all over his face. There was a moment of calm as they stared at each other, then Napoleon pulled Illya closer to kiss down his chest, Illya's breath hot and heavy in his ear as he started to giggle.

Illya reached down at the source of his amusement and started to rub Napoleon with the ball of his hand, grinding his thigh against Napoleon's.

“I've been nursing a semi-on for who knows how long,” Napoleon gasped.

“Sémillon. I picked grapes there a few years back. Such a beautiful wine,” Illya moaned softly.

“What? No, that thing you're going to pull off if you're not careful!” Napoleon protested.

In between fits of laughter, Illya stroked Napoleon's boner more gently. “I would not want to do that, Napoleon. Shall I inspect it to make sure it is not damaged?”

Napoleon made a small sound at the back of his throat as Illya unbuttoned him and released his cock, the warmth and grip of his hand sending him to the edge.

“Are you in pain? I will fetch some ice, yes?” Illya teased.

“God, no,” gasped Napoleon, squirming in Illya's hand. “Maybe I should get those chains and give you a taste of your own medicine.”

“What does my medicine taste like, Solo?” Illya whispered innocently, kissing along his neck.

“I don't normally ask for a blow job on a first date, but I'm pretty close to-,” Napoleon suddenly inhaled sharply as Illya slipped to his knees and ran his tongue around the tip of Napoleon's cock. He didn't mean to ejaculate so soon, but he did, groaning with disappointment. Illya didn't seem to mind, licking and sucking for a little longer, before coming up for air.

“I'm sorry, I'm usually a bit more romantic than this,” Napoleon said quietly as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from Illya's forehead.

“You may wine and dine me later,” Illya said with a gleam in his eye, climbing back up to lay down next to Napoleon, guiding his hand to his own crotch as he pulled off his underwear. 

Napoleon settled down next to Illya to kiss and suck across his abdomen, then slowly licked the length of his cock, feeling it respond as he stroked a finger underneath. He pictured Illya chained up naked, and swallowed a sigh as he slowly teased an orgasm from the blond. He was determined to take his time, and watch Illya fall deeper and deeper into ecstasy. It wasn't the most romantic place, but it would do for now.

He watched Illya watching him and smiled, giving his lovers his full attention was a promise he always made to himself, and he always intended to keep true to his word.

Illya arched his back, eyes flickering with desire, losing focus, but fixed on Napoleon.

Nothing else mattered for now.


End file.
